


Inevitablity

by kosame



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Illusions, M/M, Magic, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kosame/pseuds/kosame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One two three, one two three... The downbeat will always follow the upbeat in the waltz, dancers spinning round and round, always rotating. They wait with anxious anticipation for each new measure's beginning, though it only comes after another's end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to K for the title. <3

No service.

With a hiss of displeasure, Norway stuffed his mobile back into his pocket. Twigs cracked under his feet as he continued he search for whatever it was that was causing mischief for the locals who lived near this forest. It wasn't a job he particularly enjoyed doing, but he was one of the only people left who could, and so he grit his teeth and pushed another low-hanging branch aside.

What made his mood especially sour, though, was the origin of the being in question. He'd gotten a glimpse of it about two hours ago, and he was nearly certain it was a bys he was dealing with. His initial impression was confirmed when the creature winked out of view as soon as it had noticed Norway watching, and somehow managed to get away before he could remove the enchantment.

That a bys had gotten all the way up to one of his forests from Gotland was a mystery, one he planned on making Sweden explain in excruciating detail just as soon as he could get a bar or two on his phone. He had half a mind to make Sweden come up and traipse through the forest with him, but it would be better to resolve the situation sooner rather than later, that night if possible. The summer solstice was fast approaching, and he didn't want to be in the forest any more than was necessary as the powers of the magical spirits waxed full. The fairies in Oslo were bad enough on midsummer's night; he didn't want to encounter a wilder one whose heart was sure to be full of mischief.

Coming across a clearing, he finally spotted a telltale spalsh of red. As he approached, it resolved into a tiny red cap on the bys's gray, gnarled head. It appeared to be resting on a stump of a tree otherwise long gone, tiny ax resting on the ground with its handle propped at an angle to the wood. Keeping his breathing and steps as silent as possible, Norway crept ever closer, making sure not to reveal himself until the last possible moment.

Of course, the bys's first reaction on seeing him step into the clearing was to startle to its tiny legs, groping wildly for its ax. "Wait," Norway said in calm, firm Swedish. "I only want ta help ya get home."

Narrowing it's eyes, the bys stood on the stump as if that would make it tall enough to be intimidating; it still only barely surpassed Norway's knee. "Oh? What would a wee human know 'bout my home?"

"'M not a mere human," Norway replied while remaining careful not to seem like he was challenging the bys. "Ya should be able ta see that fer yerself."

"So I can," the being conceded. "Yer not the immortal 'f my homeland."

"No," Norway agreed. "Yeh've wandered North, into my house."

"Why should I trust you?" the bys asked, and Norway cursed Sweden and his suspicious spirits. "Maybe _you've_ come to _my_ home to trick me."

It took effort to keep himself from rolling his eyes, but Norway knew offending the sprite would just make things worse. "How can I convince ya, then?"

"Bring my homeland here in three days time," the bys said, pointing at the stump beneath its feet with one tiny finger. Then, before Norway could object, or even agree, it blinked out of sight again.

Norway didn't kick the stump in frustration, although it was a close thing. Sweden was definitely getting an angry call the instant he got in range. He hurried out of the forest, wanting to be safely away before the sun set.

***

"Ah, this is good," Denmark drawled, "Just like old times!" He had his battle axe slung over one shoulder, and was smiling broadly. Norway and Sweden shared a look about how much they would both like to punch him.

Three days later, and they were heading back to the clearing where the bys had demanded Norway bring Sweden. After apologizing roughly a hundred times, Sweden had driven up from Stockholm to meet him. Norway supposed having to spend the long car trip with only Denmark for company was probably penance enough, but it couldn't have been avoided since it was safer to go in an odd number in case they ran across something that wanted to bewitch them. Finland would be completely useless in a spirit hunt, being convinced all sprites were as happy and harmless as Hanatamago, and Norway knew Iceland was still terrified of faeries and ghosts, which was the way he wanted to keep it since it kept his baby brother out of harm's way. Denmark, at least, had sharp eyes and good intuition.

"Be quiet," Norway hissed over his shoulder. "We don't want to catch the attention of any fae if we can avoid it." The bys pushing the meeting back by three days meant there were only three left until Midsummer.

"Sorry, Norge," Denmark replied in a voice just above a whisper, grin turning contrite. "I'm a little surprised this bys asked for Sve by name, though. He a friend?"

Sweden shook his head. "Haven't seen one in years. Haven't even been to Gotland in years."

"Well, there's your problem, Sve. Maybe he was just feeling neglected seeing as you haven't been to visit him recently."

"I doubt it," Norway said. "Bysar are paranoid, cantankerous creatures that don't like to exert a lot of effort. Why come all the way up here if he wanted Sve's attention when he could have just as easily started a commotion in the village closest to where he lives?"

"Hmmm, in that case, are you sure he's a bys?"

"Of course I'm sure," Norway snapped. "It had the ax and hat and spoke to me in Swedish." He elbowed Denmark viciously in the side for questioning him.

"Ah, of course, of course," Denmark wheezed, "Shouldn't've doubted you."

Stopping in his tracks, Denmark and Sweden took the cue and followed suit an instant later. He squinted ahead at the appointed stump, but it didn't look like the bys was there yet.

"That the place?" Sweden asked.

Norway nodded. He could feel the two of them going on alert to either side of him. "It might be hiding itself until it can verify who we are. Don't let your guard down."

The trio started forward slowly, and Norway kept his attention focused solely on the stump, trusting Denmark to watch their flank. He stopped in the same spot he had the previous time, and waited for Sweden to stop a pace back and to his right. "'S it here?" Sweden asked under his breath.

Norway shook his head, then said in a carrying voice, "Bys! I've returned with the immortal of yer homeland like ya demanded. Show yerself!"

There was a long silence, the only noise the three men's breathing. As the seconds ticked by, he began to think that maybe they had beaten the sprite there, but listening carefully, the sound of tiny grumbles were becoming clearer and clearer as they got closer and closer. Finally, it came into view, leaving its ax propped against the stump and walking on tiny legs up to Norway. "No need ta rush me," it complained. "Ya got guts commin' back. Where 's he?"

"Here," Sweden said, and the bys turned to him. Norway wondered if he was glaring on purpose, or if it was just difficult for him to crane his neck to see such a tiny being so close to him. Either way, it didn't seem intimidated.

"Hmmmm," it said, walking a circle around Sweden and inspecting him. Norway noticed out of the corner of his eye that Denmark seemed to trust the bys as little as he did, splitting his attention between the spirit and the trees beyond. "Hmm, yeah. Yeah, yer him."

"Trust me now?" Norway asked.

The bys looked over its shoulder at him, thoughtful expression still in place. "As good as yer word, as good as yer word. Thank you." Something twisted appeared on its face then, and Norway felt his stomach drop. Wind started to pick up in a cyclone around Sweden in the path the bys had walked.

Without thinking, he jammed his hand down his shirt and pulled out the amulet he wore for protection. It was strong magic, strong enough even to protect against spiritfolk. Tearing it from his neck, he tossed it to Sweden. "Sve!"

That demonic grin flashed once, and both spirit and Nation were gone. Denmark had lurched forward, but his hand closed on empty air. They were too late.

"Where'd he take him? Gotland?" Denmark asked, words coming out in a rush, as if he would swim across the Baltic to get there if Norway nodded.

"Calm down," Norway said, trying not to panic himself. "He has my pendant, he'll be safe until we can reach him."

"Your pendant... the one that protects you from fairy magic?"

He nodded. "We have to get out of this forest _right now_."

Denmark looked like he was formulating a strategy. "Alright," he said, "stay directly behind me, out of sight, and I'll draw the attention of anything we might come across." Before Norway could get out a protest, he added, "Does us no good if we both get bewitched."

Norway hated it when Denmark had a point. He slipped into Denmark's shadow, and they moved in between the trees as quickly as was feasible while still being cautious. Unfortunately, fate was not kind to them that night.

Abruptly, Denmark stopped in his tracks, and Norway did his best not to run into his back. Crouching a little to make sure he was out of sight, he wondered what his friend had seen. "Dan?"

"Fairies, a lot of 'em," Denmark whispered back. "They're dancing. Don't think they've seen us yet."

"Can we go around?"

"Yeah, just not sure how to do it while still keeping you hidden."

"Forget about that," Norway hissed. "Speed will keep us safer than anything else."

"Okay." Denmark took one hand off his axe and reached it behind him, presumably for Norway to take. The instant he did, Denmark took off like a bat out of hell, dragging Norway along behind him. It was disorienting, but he trusted Denmark to lead the way. "Stop," Denmark suddenly whispered in alarm, putting himself bodily in front of the other man. This time, Norway did run into his back.

"Oh lucky day! Humans!" came a high pitched voice from somewhere in front of him. "I love to play with humans."

"I don't want any trouble," Denmark said, grip tightening on his axe.

"And your friend does?" the fairy laughed. Something about the melodic sound of her giggles made it even more jarring than if the sound has been as ugly as the meaning behind the words.

Not seeing any point in continuing to hide and stay blind to what was going on, Norway stood up and moved to the side so he could see around Denmark's shoulder with no obstacles. Denmark angled his body protectively with a small growl.

Laughing again, the fairy bobbed wildly up and down in midair. She wore a green dress and had thick moth wings. Norway's fingers itched, magic jumping between them in little sparks, as he waited for an opening to throw a spell at her. "What should I do to you two, huh? It really was so lovely of you to come in a pair." When neither of them responded, she continued, "Trying to hide your partner, that's not one I've seen before. It's so, what's that word? _Noble_." She thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers and perked up. "Oh, I know! You humans, always giving me the best ideas as to what will make you _squirm_ the most."

It was now or never, it seemed, even though she hadn't left an opening in particular. Eyes meeting Denmark's in silent signal, Norway flung a fire spell at her, hoping the distraction would let them get away. They turned and ran, the fairy shrieking unhappily behind them.

"Oooh, now you've really done it!"

Norway turned back, wondering if he could at least shield Denmark in time, but the spell was too fast. The world fell away into black.


	2. Chapter 2

"Brother! Brother! Wake up!"

Norway opened his eyes slowly, the morning sun directly in his face. Bringing a hand up to shield his eyes, his gaze slid to the side and focused on Iceland, round baby cheeks turning in on themselves in tiny dimples. His expression matched his tone in excitement.

"C'mon!" he said, pulling on Norway's free hand. "Dan's already saddled them and everything!"

Confused, Norway complied, getting up from the pile of hay he'd been lying on. Had he fallen asleep in the barn waiting for Denmark to get the horses? It felt like slogging through molasses, he couldn't think, just let little Iceland tug him along.

They emerged from the barn to see Denmark in a fenced enclosure, leading two horses by the reins. He quickly brought them to a stop, whispering something with a smile to both horses, before running in between them and stopping just in front of where their tails swayed leisurely back and forth. "Norge! Ice!" he called, waving in big motions over his head.

Iceland started to pull them forward again, Norway dumbly following, but he noticed a buzzing noise over his ear and stopped.

"Brother?"

Norway didn't answer the child, watching silently as the wasp weaved through the air toward Denmark and the horses. For his part, Denmark didn't seem to notice, like the idiot he was. He was oddly fixated by the insect as it hovered close to to the rump of one of the animals. The tail swung more wildly, irritated and trying to swat at the wasp, and knowledge of what was about to happen slowly crept on him just a split second too late. It was like déjà vu as the agitated insect stung the horse and it kicked out behind itself blindly.

He couldn't even call a warning, everything went too quickly, just grabbed Iceland and crushed his face to his stomach so he wouldn't see the blood, the unnatural angles, the eyes still wide open in shock. Norway vaguely registered someone speaking, little noises getting progressively more panicked, but he couldn't move. Iceland tried to pull away, but he dared not let his iron grip relax even an inch. It didn't compute no matter how long he stared at the sight in front of him. Denmark was dead. Denmark was dead.

"Brother, I can't breathe!" Finally Iceland's voice got through his daze. He closed his eyes for a long moment, trying to figure out what to do.

"Let the kid go, Norge, he's not old enough to appreciate the way his elders dote on him."

Denmark's voice. His eyes snapped open, and Iceland squirmed out of his now slack grip. "I'm going to play in the garden," the child announced before running out of the room.

Suddenly, they were inside, barn and horses nowhere in sight. The room was expensively decorated, gilded wood and plush seats surrounding them. Denmark was perched on an open windowsill, brows drawing together to make a tiny line between them. "Are you okay?"

Norway didn't know how to answer. How did he get here? Denmark was alright? His brain still wouldn't work properly, whirring in empty little circles as his mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"Norge?" Denmark moved to unfold himself from his sitting position, but as he did so, his foot caught on his leg. He flailed wildly for his balance, but he was starting to fall backwards. This time, Norway moved, reaching desperately for the other man, but he was again too slow. He caught his elbows on the ledge so he didn't follow the the Dane out the window, but that gave him a perfect view of Denmark, limbs akimbo, blood seeping slowly into a puddle around him.

"This isn't real," Norway insisted under his breath, still staring down at the lifeless form in the garden. "This can't be real." He slowly pulled himself back inside the room, standing and taking a deep breath. "It's not real."

He turned, and suddenly he felt a strong tug on his arm. With no choice but to follow, he started forward, tripping a little at the sudden lurch.

Denmark looked back over his shoulder, smiling as though there was nothing better than tromping through the winter with Norway. The snow was deep enough that it was hard to walk, but it didn't slow Denmark down.

"Wait," Norway insisted, stopping and refusing to go any further forward. This wasn't real, he knew that. It had to be... what was it?

Denmark didn't stop, though, simply let go of Norway's hand and forged ahead. "C'mon, Norge!"

No, they had been... It was summer. In reality it was summer. Encouraged, Norway worked to remember something, anything else.

It didn't surprise him when Denmark's next step turned out to be ice instead of solid ground. He didn't move when the other man disappeared, plunged into the icy waters. Quashing any thought of rescue, he stood his ground.

"This isn't real," he reminded himself. "This is... This is fairy magic. It's an illusion. It's not real."

Eyelids suddenly unbearably heavy, he fell down face first into the snow, slipping slowly into sleep.

***

The ground was hard and cold under his cheek. Still disoriented, Norway pushed up with both arms, first to his hands and knees, then up to kneeling. He was back in the forest, but everything was quiet, no sound of the fairy reveling that had been going on before. How much time had passed?

He forced himself to open his eyes, pushing down the dizziness as best he could. There was nothing but trees in front of him. He began groping the ground around him for Denmark, blindly at first, then finally finding the will to turn his head.

About three feet behind him lay his friend, sprawled face-down on the carpet of the forest. Panic gripped Norway's heart, even though every vision so far had involved him actually watching Denmark die. He scrambled over as best as he could and thrust a hand near Denmark's face, tension visibly leaving his shoulders when he felt the tickle of a breath. "Dan," he croaked. "Get up, you idiot!"

Denmark stirred, blinking slowly a few times before sitting up himself. "Norge? What happened?"

"Remember yourself," Norway managed, still struggling with nausea.

"Are you okay?" Denmark asked, stupidly astute as always. He reached for Norway only to have his hand slapped away. After frowning at his friend for a moment, Denmark stood and began to wander around, presumably to look for any sign of the faeries.

"You didn't see anything in your sleep?" Norway asked after a few moments of silence.

"Hm? No, nothing. Why, did you see something?"

He couldn't bring himself to say it aloud, fingers tightening on his knees into fists. The protection magic must have worked, even though he didn't think he'd had time to finish it. It was good, that Denmark had been spared the torment of the spirit's spell. Still, somewhere in the back of Norway's head, something seemed off.

"Oh, that's right, we were cursed by a fairy! Well, I don't see anything now." Norway looked up at Denmark then, and there was a huge grin across his face. "Looks like we're in the clear!"

As he stared at Denmark's smile, the missing piece slid into place in Norway's head. Turning away, he forced himself to his feet. "Show yourself!"

"Norge? There's no one here but us," Denmark said from behind him, but Norway ignored him.

"I know you're there! This is just another illusion!"

The horrible, broken-glass giggle returned to the wood, followed by the fairy resolving into view. "You're a smart one, human."

"If I'd managed the shield spell, he shouldn't have been knocked out," Norway said between clenched teeth.

"Oh, true. I'll remember that for the next time I play with one of you mortals."

"I'm not mortal," Norway spat, matching the spiritfolk's haughty pride.

"Mortal enough that it bothers him to watch you die," she said lightly. "You should hear him scream for you. It's quite funny." Norway forced himself not to flinch at the sound as she laughed again. "Not that you aren't great fun yourself."

Norway stared at her coldly.

"Hey, Norge, c'mon, we should get out of here before those sprites come back!"

"Not going to try and save him? You probably could this time."

His glare didn't leave her face, not even as Denmark called his name again. A smirk spread slowly across her face as she watched what was happening over his shoulder. A rustle, a strangled cry, the crack of bone hitting rock and the thump of a body hitting the ground. Still, he didn't turn around.

The fairy frowned. "Boring. You're no fun now that you've figured out my game, so I guess I'll have to change it."

"You can't keep us here forever," Norway pointed out. "You'll have to return home at dawn."

"Who said I wanted to? Like I said, boring. New game." Her eyes narrowed, malicious glee making her supernaturally beautiful features ugly. "I'll let your partner be."

Norway didn't let his relief show outwardly at all as he waited for the catch.

"Unless you tell him anything about what I'm about to do you. Keep it a secret, or the curse will transfer itself to him." She smiled a horrific smile. "Got it?"

He didn't have a chance to respond before the illusion dissolved around him, leaving him in darkness again.

***

This time when he woke, he had no doubt it was real. Denmark was behind him, just like he had been in the illusion, but he got up on his own this time. Norway opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Denmark launched himself across the space between them, grabbing him in a bear hug. "Norge, Norge, Norge," he repeated over and over again like a mantra. Norway took the opportunity to verify for himself that his friend was safe and whole in front of him, wrapping his arms around Denmark in return.

They remained that way, unmoving, for a few minutes, before Norway opened his eyes and saw the glow of the fairy fires over Denmark's shoulder. They couldn't run into any more fae now, they wouldn't survive it. "We have to go," he whispered against Denmark's lapel.

Denmark nodded, but it still took him a few seconds to release his friend. He reached back for his axe, then joined Norway on his feet. They headed swiftly and silently for the edge of the trees, where they'd left Norway's car.

When they reached the car, they both sagged against it, taking a few moments to catch their breath. Denmark slid all the way down into a squat. He looked up with a question in his eyes when Norway held out his mobile at level with his face.

"Call Finland," Norway said, "Tell him to get his rifle meet you in Gotland. Then see if you can find a third person. England and Romania will be useless, so don't bother with them. Pick someone good at fighting."

Denmark nodded. "You're not coming?"

"I need to make some more protective amulets. But they'll do us no good if we don't know where they've taken him."

"Think they're aiming for Midsummer?"

"Obviously," Norway replied, although he couldn't muster his usual venom. "Oh, and give me your phone."

That got a ghost of a smile out of Denmark as he dug through his pockets. "Why give me yours if you're just going to need mine?"

"Because, idiot, no one is going to answer if they see you calling them in the middle of the night."

"Finland would," Denmark said loyally.

"And Ice probably wouldn't pick up if he knew it was me," Norway added bitterly.

Denmark actually laughed a shaky laugh, turning over his mobile. They managed to sound calm on their respective phone calls, even if they kept their pinkies locked behind them as they moved apart to talk, reassuring them the other was still there.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite the blizzard raging around him, Norway wasn't cold. He flexed his fingers in his gloves, surprised that they'd move even as slowly as the did. It wasn't hard to tell that he'd been out so long he'd stopped feeling the freezing sting of the snow on the slivers of his skin exposed to the elements. It also wasn't hard to figure out what he must be doing out here.

True to the fairy's word, she had cast an insidious curse on him. He would be taken into illusions at random, unrelated to what he was doing at the time, and forced to watch Denmark die. Unlike the initial visions, there was no confusion or disorientation. It made it impossible to attempt anything requiring concentration, like for example casting the protective spells necessary to make the amulets they'd need to protect them when they went after Sweden. Nightmares kept his sleep fitful, in a way better than the visions and in a way worse. They showed scenes of death more like a movie than the first-person experiences of his waking hours, and while it made them easier to watch, it also meant he was not conscious of the fact that they were dreams. The car crash he'd witnessed had left him sitting bolt upright in bed, convinced he'd had a premonition and halfway through dialing Denmark's number before he realized what was going on.

 _Just get it over with_ he told himself, pushing forward on his skis. It would only prolong the vision, he'd learned, to try and fight. Once he'd actually clung to Denmark and refused to let him go toward the precariously balanced collection of pipes that were sure to crush him, only to have the Dane grab his chest and sink to the ground in Norway's arms. There was no winning, only surviving.

His one hope, what he was banking on, was the conditions she had set on the curse. The fact that she had given him the choice whether or not to reveal the truth about what was happening suggested that it would not happen so long as there was another person around to notice. Now he was just waiting for Iceland to arrive, materials gathered and ready, hoping his little brother could stem the onslaught.

Not long after starting the search did he see a lump in the snow, probably what he was looking for. Trust Denmark, who had no snow or mountains, to get himself lost in Norway's in the middle of winter like the idiot he was. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

Sure enough, he brushed away the accumulated snow to reveal a corpse of unnaturally pale white and light blue. _I did it,_ he pleaded silently, continuing to dig, _Let me out, I did it._

Paradoxically, the cold caught up with him as he returned to himself in his workroom, stopped mid-motion as he took books off his shelf for Iceland to look through for information when he got there. He continued where he left off for a short while, until another illusion came for him.

Water swirled around him, and the strong current would have carried him away if it wasn't for a signpost he was currently clinging to desperately. Around him were houses and stores half submerged in the flood, and the rain was still coming down in sheets, making it difficult to see the person grasping his other hand. Despite the limited visibility, he knew it must be Denmark.

Their fingers were slippery, and he grit his teeth and tried to tighten his grip. Denmark was yelling something, but he couldn't hear it over the wind. He was losing centimeters in fits and jerks, and there was no way to get better purchase. He tried yelling to Denmark to bring his other arm up to grab Norway's, but of course it was lost to the wind as well. Denmark's thumb slipped free and--

"I let myself in. If you didn't want me to, you shouldn't have left your front door open."

\--Norway slammed back into himself, eyes focusing on Iceland putting down his bag and making himself at home.

"...Nore? Is something wrong?"

Smirking to himself, he was satisfied to see he'd been correct about the loophole in the spell. "No, it's nothing."

That seemed to be good enough for Iceland. "So, why am I here?"

"To help me."

He snorted. "You don't need my help with anything to do with magic."

"I do," Norway said with a completely straight face, turning up his earnest stare as creepy as it would go.

As expected, Iceland looked slightly freaked out. He hid it well, but there was no fooling his older brother's eagle eyes. "What do you want me to do then?"

"Look through these books for information on bysar. I don't think they should be able to perform the kind of magic it used to kidnap Sve, so if that's the case, then look for creatures that can and might help a bys." The young man nodded. "Also, you need to look over at me frequently, no less then once every five minutes."

" _What--?_ "

"And don't ask any questions." Norway gave him a thin smile for an instant, then turned to start on his own work, leaving Iceland to fume quietly.

***

They took a break for an early dinner after Norway finished the first amulet. If he could keep up this pace, he could finish another that night and three the next day, with time enough to spare to get to Gotland in time for Midsummer's Eve the day after that. "Did you find anything?"

"A little," Iceland replied shortly; he was clearly still miffed. "It would go faster if I didn't have to look up and lose my concentration every paragraph."

Norway just chewed his bread serenely.

"Nore!"

"Call me 'Storebror' and maybe I'll tell you."

That just earned him a glare. "I'm going for a walk."

"Be back in half an hour. I want to finish another pendant tonight."

"Fine." He stood and left, not-quite slamming the door behind him.

Leaning over, Norway speared with his fork one of the pieces of broccoli Iceland had left behind in his haste. It was good broccoli.

***

Some were based on memories.

Norway remembered this night, this tryst. It was summer, and it was drizzling so lightly it was almost a mist. The weather couldn't seem to make up it's mind, however, sometimes letting the full moon peak through the clouds. Warm air made the rain bizarrely comfortable as he hurried along the edge of the Sound toward the large boulder that served as their rendezvous point.

Their king kept them on a short leash, for reasons Norway didn't understand even now with several centuries worth of hindsight. Keeping the true nature of their relationship a secret was nothing new to them, but that was more to avoid the castle gossip than anything else. The king's rules were gradually becoming harsher and harsher, making their meetings riskier and accordingly sparser. Until recently, Norway reckoned the king had known what was going on and had been frustrated by a lack of proof. Then, just two months ago, Denmark had gotten caught sneaking out, which had earned him a spectacular punishment. They probably should have stopped, but they had been young and foolish and in love. They had known at the time how this would end, as surely as Norway knew now, but they hadn't cared.

Being careful not to slip on the small rocks wet with sea spray, he deftly navigated his way to where Denmark was waiting for him. He looked so much smaller, almost insubstantial compared to the man he'd become. Norway imagined he was probably the frail waif he'd been at the time as well, but it felt like his skin, and he paid it no mind as he aggressively pushed the memory of his lover back up against the rock, both hands twisted in the fabric of his light summer cloak.

There could be no words between them for the crash of the waves, which was the way Norway preferred it. The sea swallowed the sound of what must have been his name from the shape of Denmark's moving lips, and as he leaned into the caress of Denmark's hand on his cheek, he wondered if this was a bad idea. Maybe the heart attack option would be kinder in the long run, especially to himself. On the top of the list of things he didn't need to be reminded of while stuck in a never-ending loop of death was the fact that at one time he and the person he was watching die had given themselves to each other in a pure and uncomplicated love, not least because those feelings certainly lay dormant in his heart in the present, complicated now but no less pure.

At the first light brush of Denmark's lips against his, however, all thoughts of consequences left his mind. He needed something, some modicum of comfort, even if it wasn't real. He wasn't halfway into his ordeal, and already it was wearing at him, taking the exhaustion and the frustration and using it to find the chinks in his usually impenetrable emotional armor. If he remembered correctly, they only had five minutes, ten at the most, before they were discovered, and he had an idea how this vision might differ from reality. No time to waste, he kissed his lover desperately, pressing as close as was possible. The illusion returned his fervor just as eagerly, no doubt starved from two months of seeing him every day without being allowed to touch.

The shouts of the guards didn't surprise him. He knew now that they'd changed the patrolling rotations two days prior, a fact of which he was uninformed at the time. When Denmark threw his black cloak over Norway's head and shoved him in a small space between two rocks, he let it happen, the fight and confusion of the first time around notably absent, leaving a void of apathy. The patrolmen wouldn't see him as long as the moon stayed behind the clouds, and though he'd spent the first time wondering if they would hold, he had no such trepidation this time. _It's not real_ , he told himself firmly. _Endure it._

It started faithful to his memory. The captain demanded to know where Norway was, and Denmark claimed to be out for a walk alone. They both had to shout to be heard over the wind and the waves, and even at that volume the conversation was difficult for Norway to make out. Spotting Denmark's statement as the lie it was, the captain then hit him a few times, demanding again Norway's location. At that point, scene diverged, just as Norway had predicted. Instead of hauling him back to the castle, the captain continued to question him over and over, and Denmark continued to deny any knowledge of where Norway was. He offered no resistance, eventually sinking to the ground after a few punches too many. The patrol then began to kick him over and over. At this point they couldn't have been hoping for an answer, it was just vindictive. Norway forced himself to watch out of some kind of morbid solidarity, and when the captain finally called his men off, he still stared directly at the dark shape on the rocks, waiting for the vision to end.

Denmark's hand twitched. It startled him, because there had never been any final moments before now. He crawled out of his hiding place and scrambled across the few feet separating them, picking up Denmark's shoulders and cradling him close. The same hand twitched again, and he reached out and took it, squeezing it tightly. For the first time in this whole cycle, he saw a glimmer of hope. If Denmark could just hang on until Iceland interrupted and brought him back to the real world, then this one time, at least, it wouldn't end in death. He hunched over the other man, whispering in his ear and hoping he was heard. "Stay with me. Don't go yet. Stay."

There was a weak answering pressure, and he cautiously let the hopeful spark grow. Surely it wouldn't be much longer. They could do this, they could survive it. Hunkered down against the mist and the rain, it was almost as though Norway was shielding him against the specter of death poised to take him.

A wet, shuddering breath.

"No."

A shallow wheeze.

"Just a little while longer. Hold on just a little longer."

A gentle sigh, and what feeble strength that remained went out of his fingers.

Norway closed his eyes and kept them closed for a long moment after returning to the real world. Head bowed, he sat in silence, not allowing himself to think about anything.

"Nore? Didn't you want to get started by now?"

Wordlessly, Norway got up and headed for his workroom, Iceland trailing perplexed behind.


	4. Chapter 4

Norway had no control in the nightmares. He wasn't there, just a disembodied observer. A ghost. If he had been the one designing the curse, crafting it to hurt himself in the worst ways possible, he would have kept this scenario for a dream. Maybe he was, subconsciously; this spell was clearly clever enough to read his memories, why not his current thoughts as well? That the target hadn't moved to Iceland upon his arrival at Norway's home was a bit of evidence against the theory, because however difficult it was to watch Denmark die, he couldn't even begin to imagine the kind of torture it would be with his little brother as the victim.

Denmark, in the dream, stood then, drawing Norway back to his surroundings. Everything was indistinct, but it was perfectly clear to him nonetheless. That was the logic of dreams, he supposed. Even boring ones like this, that so far only consisted of Denmark writing something on some nice stationery that had required three drafts.

Maybe he'd die of a papercut. Cut his finger and bleed to death slowly but accidentally.

Norway wasn't actually that naïve.

Sure enough, Denmark reappeared, maybe he'd left the room, maybe not, Norway couldn't recall. It didn't matter. What did matter was the large bottle of pills in his hand. He'd been half-morbidly-curious, wondering what method he thought Denmark would choose. National trends over personality, then. Violently was how they'd all come into the world, but apparently quietly was how they would leave it.

It was almost as if he really was outside his own body, or if everything below his eyes was paralyzed. If this had been a waking illusion, he'd have forced a different ending the instant he saw the note, or at the very latest, the pills. This was...

The top of the bottle didn't make a noise as it came off, the pills didn't rattle as he shook them out into his cupped palm. Surely the heavy swallows as he forced too much down his throat over and over again should be audible at least. Dream logic, on mute, but not slow motion, Denmark falling swiftly into his bed. Surreal in its reality.

How long did it take sleeping pills to kill someone? Norway didn't know. Either way, he didn't need to wait. Denmark lived alone, there was no one to be concerned if he didn't answer his phone for a few hours, or even answer the door. He wouldn't wake up again, and no one would save him. Who would find him like this, Norway wondered, and would they try futilely to turn back the tide, too little too late? Probably his boss, someone Norway didn't know well enough to speculate about. Who would his boss call? How would he hear the news, the him that existed in this nightmare world?

Why was he still here?

As if to answer him, his mind directed him away from where Denmark lay asleep or maybe already dead on top of the duvet, back toward the desk. The note. He didn't want to read it. If the boss or police or whoever found him had any sense of mercy at all, they would burn the thing and tell them all there hadn't been one. This conviction was bone-deep, even without seeing it. But it looked like he wouldn't get a choice, he'd read it anyway.

_Sorry for being such a burden. Just this one last time, then I won't impose on you any more, I promise. Thanks for being my family. You made me happy._

Not happy enough, apparently. Was it appropriate to be sarcastic here? No one was actually dead, after all. And if they were, Norway would be angry, he was sure he would. More than grief or guilt or the unthinkable yet implicitly accused relief, anger.

Time to wake up.

***

In retrospect, he should have planned what he was going to say after the four long rings and the groggy, "Norge? Wassamatter?" Why had he done this again? Sleep-deprivation had robbed him of all his sense, it seemed.

"Danmark."

"Somethin' happen?" He sounded marginally more awake this time.

"No." Nothing happened. Nothing _would_ happen.

A soft chuckle led into his question, "Then why're ya callin' me at four in the mornin'?"

 _You're not a burden,_ Norway didn't say. That was just a nightmare. The real Denmark didn't think those things. Probably. "Ice and I'll be down there sometime tonight."

"That's _some_ good news at least," Denmark said, voice still soft with sleep even as he was clearly alert now. "All we've found's a whole bunch o' places Sve's not."

"Well, keep looking."

More laughter. "We will. We've actually been through most of the forest. Always in the last place you look, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause there, but Norway knew Denmark was just trying to figure out the best way to fill it. "Don't worry," he said after a moment, "He's got us, doesn't he?"

Norway knew Sweden would be fine, had had no doubt from the beginning. The kidnappers had been smart to lure him away from the protections of his own land before trying to abduct him, and they might have been able to do some real harm, but not while Sweden had Norway's amulet. Between the protective wards and his own good sense, Sweden would be safe until they could get to him. The only hurdle was orchestrating the rescue. Was it a good sign or a bad one that Denmark assumed Norway's insomnia was caused by worry for Sweden? He tried to remind himself there were no signs to see. "Yeah."

"Well then," Denmark said, leaving a bit of question in his tone, as if inviting Norway to interrupt if he had anything else to say.

"I—" Norway rushed to say, not sure how to finish the sentence but unwilling to let the chance to start it pass. Most of the time he trusted those to whom he spoke to understand what he meant, and didn't bother with people who couldn't follow his conversation, but on the rare occasion, like this one, he really hated his inability to communicate clearly. "I'm sure he appreciates it. Us looking for him, I mean."

"He'd better! I'd thought the sleepin'-on-rocks phase of my life was comfortably behind me."

"You poor baby," Norway deadpanned.

"It's okay. Or, it will be when I get to tell him I share a blanket with Fin and see the look on his face."

Corner of his mouth quirking up, Norway's spirits finally began to lift a little. "I approve."

"Knew ya would!" He could hear the devilish smile in Denmark's voice. "Where'dya think I get my inspiration? Next I think I'm going to follow him around insisting under my breath he call me 'storebror'."

Cheeks burning, Norway mumbled, "You're an idiot. And a thief."

"Ha ha! Got you too."

"Shut up. Go back to sleep."

"Night, Norge."

***

Unwilling to go back to sleep, Norway sought refuge in the kitchen and the milder visions of his waking hours.

This time he and Denmark were hiking in the mountains. It was warm enough there was no snow blocking their path, but still cool due to the altitude.

"Wow," Denmark said, straying a little too close to the edge of the path, where it dropped off sharply to reveal a copse of trees just below and the foot of the mountain even below that. "We're really high up!"

"I know it's a difficult concept for you," Norway drawled, "but this natural formation we're on is called a mountain. Climbing it, by definition, brings you really high up."

Denmark laughed. "Really? Is that what this is, a mountain? I'd never heard of those before!"

"Moron."

"Guess I am."

He came back to the center of the trail, falling in just a step behind Norway, meaning he apparently wasn't going to fall. What was coming then? A wild animal attack? Oxygen deprivation? Every nerve in his body was on alert trying to figure out what was coming.

"Norge, watch out!"

He was shoved from behind and stumbled forward, landing sprawled on the ground. Pushing himself up on his hands, he turned back to look, but the deafening crack and thump had left him with a good idea of what he would see. As he'd thought, a boulder had come tumbling down the craggy face, big enough to have crushed nearly all of its victim, leaving only the extremes of his akimbo limbs visible from under the rock.

Falling rocks? Really? This one wasn't even realistic, or maybe he was just too worn out to care anymore. All Norway felt inside was an aching numbness, slightly painful but mostly just dead. Had he watched this tragedy one too many times to muster up the ability to care any more? Or was it more endemic than that, a latent lack of empathy manifesting itself at the worst of times? He couldn't really even bring himself to care about his lack of caring.

Coming out of the vision, he had a few minutes of silence to enjoy his now lukewarm coffee before he was joined in the kitchen by his little brother.

Iceland yawned widely. "Morning."

"Morning." Norway gestured with his mug at the plates on the table; he'd made and eaten breakfast more out of boredom than anything else. "Eat."

After pouring himself a cup of coffee, Iceland sat down to do just that. After his first bite, though, he looked sideways at Norway, eyes narrowed. "How long have you been up?"

Norway just shrugged.

"What is going _on_ with you?" he demanded. "You're clearly not sleeping even though you look exhausted, and you've been cryptic and evasive, even for you!"

"I'm just worried about Sve," he tried, mentally thanking Denmark for his inept guess earlier.

"Bullshit."

Oh well, he should have expected that. Iceland wasn't stupid like Denmark.

"Why won't you just tell me the truth?"

"There's nothing to tell."

Chewing angrily, Iceland let him stew under a glare for a long moment. "I really hate you sometimes."

Draining the last sips of coffee from his cup, Norway stood and began to head for his workroom. "Don't take too long. We have a lot of work to do today."


	5. Chapter 5

Iceland was glaring coldly at Norway, but he didn't pay his younger brother any mind as he packed their supplies with deliberate movements. There was a fuzz in his head from fatigue that required he use all of his concentration on the one task before him, and the numbness from the day before still persisted. It was almost as if he was separated from the waking world by some semi-clear barrier.

Either way, it was clear even to his foggy mind that Iceland's concern had nearly burned through all of his naturally short temper, and Norway wasn't sure how much longer Iceland would keep his mouth shut about the oddities of his behavior without a good explanation. Unfortunately, conflict resolution was not a personal specialty of his, and with the haze in his brain, there was no way he could reason out a way to defuse the tension.

And a long car ride and a ferry ride beyond that lay ahead of them. Wonderful.

Sluggishly fastening the bags shut, he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. "Let's go."  
Iceland didn't respond verbally, but he did heft the camping supplies he'd finished checking half an hour earlier and took a step as if to follow Norway. As they crossed the threshold into the bright sunlight, however, Norway stopped in his tracks. Iceland said nothing as Norway held out the keys over his shoulder. "You'd better drive."

It was probably as close to an apology as Norway would ever be able to manage for keeping Iceland in the dark like he was. Iceland must have recognized it for what it was as well, but as he took the keys, he demanded another concession. "You have to sleep."

Norway frowned out at the day and resumed walking towards the car. "I can't sleep," he said crossly.

"No kidding," Iceland said, unamused as he opened the trunk for them to stow their gear. "But maybe instead of being stoic about it, you could taking a sleeping pill like a normal person?"

Freezing for half a second, Norway's id began running in three different directions at once, "I hate medicine" and "What if I get trapped in the nightmares?" and "Those were how Dan--" Quickly Norway wrested control of himself away from his fears. They had to save Sve. He couldn't do anything like this. "Okay," he forced out.

Out of the corner of his eye, Iceland looked surprised Norway had agreed so easily, if he'd been expecting any capitulation at all. He wisely chose to say nothing, wordlessly offering a foil pack he must have palmed before leaving the house in anticipation.

Norway took them and headed straight for the passenger seat, downing them straight away. He was an adult, and he was would take his medicine.

***

It was a jumble. Poison, flames, _bears_. Through it all, Norway slept, not remembering any of it clearly, just adding it to the pile of cruel, nonsensical accidents he'd witnessed since this whole ordeal began.

Suddenly a gentle hand was shaking him awake and they were in Sweden. It would have been disorientating, but the long sleep had cleared his head considerably. Both the haze and the numbness were gone, and he felt like suddenly he could _think_ again.

"We're here." Iceland was hovering over him, probably trying to see if he was awake. Norway clasped the hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze in both reassurance and grudging thanks. "I called Fin, he says they found Sve and are heading back here to make a plan with us."

"Good," Norway said, unfastening his seat belt and climbing out of the car with a large stretch. It was nice to have good news for a change.

They weren't waiting long before the telltale signs of the trio traipsing through the forest heralded their return. "Nor, Ice, good to see you," Finland greeted sincerely if grimly, rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Ice says you found Sve?" Norway asked him, getting straight to business. Denmark had gravitated to Iceland, harassing him with an affectionate one armed hug that he was making a show of not appreciating. And the third member of the party--

"Sure as hell we did!" Prussia cut in enthusiastically.

Norway gave Prussia his blandest look before turning to Finland. "You couldn't find anyone else?"

"It had to be someone who could drop everything and get here very quickly. Besides, you wanted someone good at combat," Finland said, almost in Prussia's defense, and Norway was merely very glad he'd only have to endure one night of Finland, Denmark, and Prussia in combination.

"I take it back, Romania would have been better."

"Crosspatch," Prussia grumbled.

"And apparently you haven't learned any new insults since you were _dissolved_."

That got Prussia's dander up. "You want to test that theory out, you--!"

"Guys!" Finland insinuated himself between them, looking less than happy. "We don't have time for this."

"That's right," Prussia spat after a moment, grudgingly acquiescing to Finland.

"Fine," Norway said as well.

Finland and Prussia turned to lead the way to their encampment, and Norway looked over his shoulder to call to Denmark and Iceland to follow, but didn't like what he saw. The pair were discussing something in hushed voices, and Norway had a pretty good idea what it was.

"—doesn't listen to me," he heard Iceland as he went closer.

"I'll talk to him then," Denmark said, and Norway really should have known that if he left them alone for two seconds, they'd start conspiring against him. It was what they always did, after all.

"Fin wants to get started," he announced in a loud voice close enough to make them jump guiltily. After a quickly moment of unease, however, they turned to follow Finland and Prussia.

Norway couldn't stop flicking little glances over at Denmark. He wasn't sure if it was to convince himself there was no specter of death hanging over the real man, or if he was just conditioned by this point. Either way, Denmark, for all that he was dense, noticed and gave Norway a quizzical look. Suddenly self aware, Norway put some distance between them, but nonetheless sat closer to him than was strictly necessary when they reached camp. It was difficult not to lean into Denmark's solid mass for reassurance, but that would only raise questions and cause problems.

They began to plan in earnest, Iceland outlining what he'd learned from Norway's stuffy library, and the other three offering reconnaissance and tactical suggestions. Norway himself mostly listened, offering the occasional criticism or answering questions. He soberly committed it all to memory, because he knew there wasn't much time.

Tomorrow, when his and all other magic would be at a peak, was surely when the fae would make their move. They had to rescue Sve before then, and due to it being a solstice, the kidnappers might not be kind enough to wait until nightfall. They'd only get one chance.

Everything would happen tomorrow.

***

The air was heavy with incense intended to get rid of the "foul air," but Norway remembered painfully that it had never worked. He remembered this room, this hateful room, where he'd spent eternities too weak to move, alone except for the ineffectual "cures" and increasingly desperate blessings, as if anything could save him or his people from the black despair. The only visitor he'd ever welcomed was Denmark, but even then it had always been clear to see the strain of worry on his face, no matter how he tried to hide it.

But if he was standing here, near the door, who was in the bed, suffocating under the heat and perfume? It took him a moment, but he understood: things were backwards.

He approached the bed slowly, calmly reviewing what he knew as if it could somehow help him. Watching Norway like this had affected Denmark deeply, reverberating in their relationship for several centuries thereafter. Step. On the one hand, he wouldn't have to watch, powerless, for years. Step. On the other, he didn't have the near assurance, like Denmark had had, that he would recover. Step. He was at Denmark's bedside now, and it wasn't like he'd had any choice to begin with. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed and put a hand softly on the lump under the covers.

Slowly, slowly, the quilt revealed Denmark's pale, pained face with a rustle. "Norge." It was clearly meant to be an exclamation, his face beaming as much as someone as weak as him could, but there just wasn't any power behind his voice. He was younger, of course, small and nearly frail. It hurt Norway to see him like this. They were Nations, they weren't meant to be this weak, natural vitality reduced to a dim glow. He'd never seen anyone with anything worse than a bad economic flu before, and in a way the vision was more shocking than any of the ones that had come before. He knew intellectually there were others, others suffering even from this very plague, but knowing and seeing as two different things.

His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Denmark's smile faded slowly, as though he was trying to force it but just didn't have the strength anymore. Faking cheer wasn't a skill of Norway's, but he still rushed to do something, anything, to make things better. Words failing him, he seized Denmark's hand, perhaps too roughly, and squeezed it with both his own.

The smile came back. "I'm glad to see you."

"You're my best friend," Norway blurted. He desperately wanted to look away, at anything else in the room, but he couldn't tear his eyes from Denmark's face.

"Hey," Denmark objected playfully, which only squeezed Norway's heart further. Where was the unnatural numbness now that he needed it? "Don't say things like that, you'll make a man think he's dying."

"I can't watch you die anymore," Norway whispered, shaking his head.

Denmark frowned in confusion and opened his mouth to respond, but Norway never got to hear whatever he was going to say. "Ack, sorry Norge," the real Denmark said in his ear.

Returning to himself, he realized he must have fallen asleep on Denmark after they'd finished planning and eaten dinner. The fact that it was dark made him wonder if Denmark hadn't dozed off as well. "What time is it?" he asked, pushing himself up.

"Just past one," Denmark replied. "I was gettin' a crick in my neck from sleepin' like that, so I was gonna try and pull out the sleeping bags without waking ya, sorry."

Norway shook his head, now completely awake and alert. He put a hand on Denmark's leg to keep him from getting up. "I need to tell you somethin'."

Regarding him warily, Denmark asked, "Does this have anything to do with the mysterious condition that keeps ya from sleeping that ya refuse to talk to Iceland about?"

Letting the silence hang between them for a moment, Norway examined the features he'd just seen so drawn in pain and worry while he wavered over what he was about to do. In the end, the line of Norway's mouth just flattened itself in determination. "Yes." He leaned into Denmark's personal space, half embracing him as he levered himself up to say clearly, quietly in his ear, "I keep having visions where I watch you die."


	6. Chapter 6

It had been one of the first visions he'd seen.

They were in Denmark's house. He looked to the left, and Denmark gave him a small smile before picking up two empty plates and disappearing into the kitchen. The little forks clanged together as he dumped the crumbs onto one of the plates as he walked, but Norway didn't see it happen. He was preoccupied with the item in his pocket, digging ever so slightly into his leg. He knew what it was, but felt around its edges anyway, verifying to himself the circumstances he found himself in.

Predictably, it was raining heavily outside, but however cliched the darkness was, Norway didn't have the luxury of caring. The heavy pounding of the rain on the window panes and the rush of blood in his ears combined to drown out all other sound under a toneless roar. Slowly, carefully, he tried to think, but he had difficulty moving through his own mind.

He could fight, the sluggish thought came to him. He could refuse to partake in this twisted game, except, the outcome would be the same, wouldn't it? None of this was real, anyway. The conflict was only in his head. No amount of resistance could break the spell, or even more foolishly, demoralize it. His enemy wasn't sentient, wasn't alive; he couldn't let himself fall into the trap of thinking that it was.

So the alternative, then. He didn't want to. He never had wanted to, even in his blackest of moods. Desperation and anger were close companions of his, but this was not a solution he had ever entertained.

He let his thoughts fall away for a moment, giving himself a breath's worth of quiet. Then, he _forced_ his mood to change, feeling little sparks of anger start to shoot through him. He didn't need a hint or reminder or whatever the hell this was supposed to be that he couldn't get the curse off of himself. He'd known from the first night, as he'd driven back to the nearest town after their respective phone calls and let his mind list possible solutions and the reasons those solutions wouldn't work. He supposed the fairy had been hoping for a situation where he'd transfer the curse to Denmark out of sheer desperation, piling guilt from giving up on top as a final indignity, but as he'd tried to make clear to her, Nations were human but they weren't humans. He had outlived generations of her forebears and would outlive her as well; it was folly to set a Nation a test of endurance and expect them to fail.

He let the insult of being so underestimated simmer under his skin, gradually becoming more and more intense. Anyone with a half a brain would have come to the same conclusion: wait until one's magic peaked at midsummer, transfer the spell, then tear it off quickly and easily. He could almost feel in his fingers the way the curse would crumple and rip under his hands like delicate tissue paper. And to a Nation like him, a few days of torment was _nothing_. It was _annoying_ , just that, nothing else.

Fanning the flames of his temper ever higher, he slipped his hand back into his pocket and gripped the hilt of the dagger he'd been given. Irritating, that's what this all was. The tremor in his arm was from the strength of his grip, the tension in his jaw. He was so _angry_ , and no one knew better than him that his rage was dangerous.

By the time Denmark returned (not actually Denmark, Norway reminded himself), drying his hands with a dish towel, Norway was nearly vibrating with barely-controlled fury. Whatever he'd been about to say never got voiced, and his smile faded quickly. Those shuttered eyes were all Norway's anger needed to morph into sharp resentment.

While Denmark was capable of obfuscation and outright deception, subtle he was not. Like anything else, his tendency towards emotional extremes had good points and bad, but Norway had always respected his tenacity, if nothing else. The determination that kind of dedication bred, whether you agreed with the ultimate goal or not, was admirable. Which is why it pissed him off he hadn't seen any sign of it for years. Everything had been subsumed by Denmark's desperate attempts to bind other Nations to himself, not caring who it was or ever being satisfied with the result. He had been consumed by his _fear_ and Noway _hated_ it.

"Fight," he spat, watching as Denmark attempted to look as nonthreatening as possible. Every conciliatory gesture just fueled his rage. "Look at yourself," he pushed on, "Where's the arrogant idiot who refused to match the size of his ego to the size of his territory? Where's man I _respected_?"

Denmark flinched. "I can't do it on my own," he mumbled, and Norway was actually seeing red.

"No more excuses!" he yelled, slipping the dagger out of his pocket and sliding off the sheath with his other hand. Denmark eyes widened, but he made no move to defend himself. "Maybe _I_ need _you_!"

That was really the truth of it, Norway realized. Why it bothered him so very much. Denmark had always been his rock, but ever since he'd lost his brash confidence, the distance between them left Norway feeling adrift. The occasional phone call or visit wasn't enough to fill the hole that had been left in his life, and he'd be damned if he gave up on someone so important to him. And there he'd gone, admitting to himself Denmark _was_ important to him.

One final squeeze of tight frustration, and he heaved himself forward, burying the blade in Denmark's neck. He met no resistance. Staring at the ground, he waited for the sticky hot trickle of blood running down his fingers to dissolve into crisp reality. His breathing gradually calmed as he worked his way back to his normal placidity. Still, he kept his eyes down, thinking.

It was as if his eyes had been opened in that moment to something completely obvious, as if he'd just realized the emperor had no clothes. Of course there has been something missing in his life, and he'd been purposefully turning a blind eye to it. Now that he'd remembered, however, there was no going back to the ignorance of before this had all started, before the fairy's curse had reminded him that yes, he did care about Denmark, quite a lot. He always had.

Norway was, at his most fundamental, a selfish being. All Nations were: look out for your national interest first, your allies second, and your enemies not at all. As much as he liked to believe he was better than that base instinct, _knew_ he and his people were ever more just and humane than they had been, it was still always there, whispering to him the truth of his deep desires, whether he wanted to hear it or not. Today, maybe it hadn't whispered so much as told him quite clearly what he wanted, indifferent to how very much effort it would take to achieve it. He would need time to adjust and figure out what he was going to do. He wasn't even really sure what form he wanted this renewed relationship to take, or what Denmark would think, he just knew that he wanted their closeness back. It would be difficult, and probably take all the patience he had within him. Nevertheless.

Set a Nation a test of endurance, and they will prevail.

***

Removing the spell was simple as Norway had predicted it would be. He pulled at the threads of the curse, methodically unraveling it bit by bit. The pattern was complicated, much too complicated to get off himself, exactly as he'd guessed, but he had the fastidiousness required to handle the job in spades.

The sky was beginning to lighten into the pinks of the morning when he finally snapped the last strand, the entire spell shattering into so much fairy dust and fading quickly from his magically enhanced vision. All the tension in Denmark's body vanished then, as though Norway had cut his strings as well. His eyes stayed closed, slipping into a much more peaceful doze, and Norway settled back into his seat on the ground next to Denmark from where he had been crouched in front of him.

Letting out a deep breath, Norway allowed himself a moment to relax, even though he knew the crisis was far from over. They still had to rescue Sweden, and after that, he'd have to answer the questions he was sure Denmark would have. Maybe even face Iceland. It was important, then, to take a moment's respite where he could get it, he reasoned.

His mind drifted back to the vision where he had been Denmark's murderer, the one where he'd realized why he wasn't quite happy with his life. He thought when the five of them had come together into some sort of loose and strange family, then he'd be set. After that hadn't worked, he'd sought to recapture what he'd lost with Iceland, if only a little. It had been enough for a while, but he'd still craved something else.

Since that illusion, and the ones that followed, he'd thought about what exactly the hole in his life was, and how he could fill it. He remembered reliving the tryst on the shore, but that felt like a lifetime ago, a passion so all-consuming that it was only for the young. Clearly it was something he'd never get back. He thought about the light banter from the mountains, but that wasn't right either. He had that now and it clearly wasn't enough. He thought about how he'd been lumped in with Sweden, Finland, and Iceland in the suicide note, and the idea of just being another brother wasn't appealing either. He thought about the scenario he'd just seen, that could have been but thankfully never had, but somehow "best friend" didn't do it justice either. Even after exploring and discarding all those shapes, though, he still intuitively knew what it was he wanted. He couldn't put it into words, but the contours of his missing piece were stark against what he knew would not be adequate. Of course, giving it attention made it ache more, and it went without saying that he refused to consider that Denmark might pull away from him and his inarticulate demand.

Mouth pressing into a humorless line at himself and his frivolity, Norway reached over and pushed Denmark's hair back from his face. He was selfish, wasn't he, to want to lean so heavily on his friend without even knowing who Denmark leaned on. He hated himself just a little in that moment, that he had been on his own for so long and yet still hadn't become strong enough.

He would ask, and he would listen to the answer. That's all he could do at this point.

Pulling Denmark down to lean on his shoulder, he emptied his mind and waited for the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

The scene would have almost been ridiculous if it hadn't been for the gravity of their circumstances. In a sunken clearing, a haphazard community of various types of fae and other magical creatures had built a giant banquet table, capable of seating all of them. Cheerful greens and summer flowers decorated the entire magnificent structure, and careful scrutiny revealed tiny axe marks signifying the builders as the bysar. Sweden was the only one seated at the table, face as impassive as ever, although he was bound hand and foot to the posts of his chair.

Norway lowered his binoculars and glanced over at Finland next to him. They were perched on the ledges that surrounded the clearing, hidden both by the trees and the overconfidence of their foes in the strength of their magical barriers. It was insulting that they thought something like this would keep him out; he might be human, but a thousand of years of practice wasn't _nothing_. Finland was already squinting through the sight on his rifle, even though if he fired now, it would only blow up in his face. He was only their insurance, anyway, but Norway wasn't a stranger to an itchy trigger finger, so he let it pass without comment.

Eyes flicking to his watch, there was still nearly a half hour until their plan would commence. None of the others were probably even in position yet, and he was already antsy. Maybe he was more in line with Finland today than he'd previously thought.

The plan was fairly straightforward, although Norway supposed that's what he got for letting the members of the team with testosterone for brains think it up. First, Norway would break the barrier surrounding the clearing, and then Denmark would rush down from the side, drawing as much attention as possible. After a few seconds, Prussia would do the same from the opposite side to cause maximum confusion. Iceland would take advantage of the dual distractions, coming in from the back and cutting Sweden free. That left Finland and himself to provide cover from their perch above it all. Upon hearing that _this_ was what they'd managed to come up with, Norway just warned them that the amulets would only protect them from three or four enchantments and then washed his hands of it. Sure, he'd probably be the one sorting them out in the end, but he could let them suffer a little first.

The good news was, he noted as he surveyed the assembled fae below, that there were relatively few fairies. Other beings' magics, like the bys's from the other night, for example, would be fairly useless offensively. Of course, there was still whatever or whomever had transported Sweden in the first place, but they could deal with that if it came to it.

Finland finally stopped fussing with his rifle and looked over at Norway, giving the amulet he was rolling around his hands a questioning look. Discovered, Norway made the executive decision that it was already too late, so there was no reason to stop. "What?"

"Nothing, just, it's unusual to see _you_ impatient." Finland turned back to the scene below them. "People might think you were worried about something."

"This is going to be easier than a piece of cake," Norway scoffed.

"I know," Finland said, and the fact that he was still not making eye contact probably said the most about how Iceland clearly had a bigger mouth than he'd anticipated. Of the choices, though, Finland was probably the easiest to talk to: he had a zero tolerance policy towards bullshit while still having the decency to pretend you weren't talking about squishy _feelings_ in capitulation to masculine embarrassment. Norway really liked Finland, Sweden had been right that he was prime wife material. He was jealous.

Not really. Most of the time. It occurred to him Finland was still waiting for an answer, and he could probably get out of giving him one by giving voice to his thoughts, but he wasn't in that kind of mood at the moment. Next time. "It was just a little curse, but it's gone now."

"A _curse_!?" Finland hissed, apparently not hearing the "little" part. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I couldn't. That was part of it. Besides, what were you going to do about it, other than fret?" That the only response was a weak glare was enough of a victory for Norway, and after savoring it for a second, he decided to take full advantage of Finland's offer of a sympathetic ear. "It reminded me that I'm more selfish than I should be."

Mouth curling in a half smile, Finland snorted. Okay, well, Norway knew that wasn't exactly news either, but he didn't have to be _rude_ about it. "We all have our vices." The words were more diplomatic than he probably deserved.

"I'm just not sure I should ask for what I want."

"Which is?"

"I don't know."

"Doesn't that solve your problem then?"

Frowning slightly, Norway said shortly, "I'm going to ask anyway. I just don't know if I _should_."

Finland's expression had become a full-on smirk. "Maybe you don't want to know the answer to that then, huh, if you've already decided what to do?"

Embarrassment at being so _amusing_ burned its way up Norway's cheeks. He stared resolutely at the ground. "I just--" he began after a long pause, hands curling into fists. "I worry that he might just agree because I'm asking, not because he really wants to."

"Why would he do that?"

"He's just so _passive_ ," Norway began, but Finland cuts him off.

"We _are_ talking about Denmark, right?" he asked in clarification, and Norway was annoyed at being so transparent even though he knew it was inevitable.

"Yes," he spat out.

Finland shook his head in disbelief. "I may not be as qualified to comment as you, but as an impartial third party, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. He's just as driven and aggressive as he's ever been."

"What? No, he's not."

" _Yes_ , he is," he insisted. "I could list examples if you want, but it boils down to the fact that he has tact and patience now. I thought those were qualities you always wanted him to cultivate."

Norway sunk back into sulky silence, more unwilling to see what Finland saw than unable.

Finland didn't pressure him to admit it, voice turning gentle again. "I guess it can be easy to forget what he's like to other people, since he's always given you special treatment. On the other hand, that probably bodes well for whatever you want to ask him, right?"

Norway looked away, embarrassed at needing Finland's reality check even if he was in truth very grateful. He was pretty sure Finland knew it, too, so he didn't feel too badly about his behavior.

"It's time," Finland said a few moments of silence later, nearly instantaneously as sharp and focused as if they hadn't been talking at all. Nodding, he breathed the words to attack the barrier around the camp, first cracking then shattering it. 

Ten seconds later, Denmark came barreling out of the forest without any hesitation and started sliding sideways down the steep hill, dirt and pebbles rolling under his feet. "Hey!" he called, smile taking on a wild edge, "Didn't your mother ever teach you that kidnapping is bad manners!?"

The magical creatures' collective attention was focused on Denmark, but they seemed unsure of what to do with him. Some up near the head of the table started conferring hastily, then looked to a tall fairy dressed in a cascade of blue flower petals standing apart from banquet area. "Fin," Norway whispered under his breath, and Finland nodded that he'd seen it too; she seemed to be their leader. She shook her head sharply, once, and then the gathered fae exploded into motion.

Denmark grinned and readied his axe, but just as the first wave reached him, Prussia jumped out of the bushes himself, according to plan. "Leeeeroy Jenkins!"

"He needs a _job_ ," Finland said, tracking the head fairy through his scope. Norway didn't get the reference, but it seemed to be the right conclusion. At least it worked, with bysar knocking each other over from trying to charge in two directions at once, and more friendly fire than spells actually getting close to hitting either of the Nations. 

Everything was going well as Iceland began to edge his way towards Sweden, until the fairy in blue spotted him. Cursing under his breath, he turned to Finland, finger curling slowly around the trigger and said, "Wait. We'll only get one shot at her." He cast a quick spell on the bullet that had Finland grinning at the flash of fire that signaled it was ready. After a few moments waiting for his opening, he fired.

They did some damage, enough to make her stumble, but that seemed only to make her angry. She spun around and began searching the treeline for their position, eyes narrowed. It was for the best, Norway thought, because at least they were giving Iceland enough cover to get Sweden out. Crouching down as low as possible, he called a small ice spell between his hands and let it go nearly blindly, almost like a grenade.

"Gonna need something bigger than that," Finland said, and there was a circle of sprites frozen solid around her as she stood untouched in the center.

"Try more bullets," Norway quipped, trying to think quickly for something more powerful he could call from this distance.

"Can do," Finland said over the click of the rifle reloading. He shot thrice in quick succession, but aside from the initial impact, they didn't do any damage.

Iceland had Sweden by the hand and was almost finished pulling him to safety. They only had to hold out a minute more before they could withdraw.

Prussia had the situation well in hand, laughing maniacally. He was taunting the little fae around him, purposefully only shallowly nicking them with his sword. He, too, was strategically inching his way back out of the clearing. Denmark seemed to be having a little more trouble, with more of the fairies concentrating their energies on him. The amulet was holding steady, though, protecting him from the glancing spells he couldn't completely dodge.

"Uh oh," Finland said, and Norway refocused his attention on the fairy leader. She was amassing a huge orb of crackling power, and it didn't take great intelligence to figure out her target from how she was glaring at them. "Now would be a good time for a plan."

"Here's the plan: run!" Norway slapped down an enchanted marker and then ran for deeper cover, Finland not a step behind. They hit the deck and cover their heads just as where they had been exploded in a spray of soil. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the stone peeking out from under the debris and thanked whatever deities might be listening. Now he just had to trust the others to get themselves out. "Go," he said to Finland, "Iceland might need help."

"Got it," Finland said, hoisting his gun over his shoulder and sprinting around the perimeter to the rendezvous with long strides. Norway could see with his magical sight the thread connecting his marker to Iceland's; they were out. Now to wait for the two idiots. Fifteen seconds later a connection appeared to his right. One idiot left.

Ten seconds passed, then twenty. What was he _doing_? He couldn't get close enough to see without becoming a target, and he began to feel an inconvenient anxiety claw its way up his chest. He forced himself to breathe evenly, but the familiar panic wouldn't be dislodged. Fighting his best against the dark thoughts whispering to him _dead dead dead_ , he spent the next few seconds in agony. Then, the final connection appeared, and he shook himself out of it.

He said the words to activate the barrier that would give them enough time to escape and ran.


	8. Chapter 8

Norway was the last one to reach the rendezvous point, a cluster of picnic tables by where they'd parked the two cars. They'd already packed everything that morning, but both Denmark and Sweden were sitting on one of the bench seats and Finland had the first aid kit out. Iceland was hovering nervously over Denmark's shoulder, which made him wonder just what had gone on in those long seconds of waiting. At least it was something small enough it could be handled with their expertise.

"I'm telling you, it was an awesome rescue!" Prussia was saying loudly into a cell phone as Norway jogged over to the others. "Triumphant! Majestic!" The expression on his face at the response betrayed the other person's doubts at Prussia's tales of glory; Germany had always had good sense. Norway slipped between him and the table to stand in front of Sweden just before Prussia had seemingly had enough. "He's _fine_ ," he said with exasperation, shoving the phone at Sweden. "Tell him you're fine."

"'M fine," Sweden said, nonplussed.

"See, West?" It was slightly strange to think of people outside their tight family worrying for Sweden's well-being; he hadn't even thought to tell anyone but Finland and Iceland, but maybe it was good Prussia had brought Germany into it. He felt strangely reckless, but the idea that he was feeling slightly warm towards Prussia had a bit of a sobering effect, enough of one that he tuned him out and turned to Sweden, who was rubbing soothing lotion on his rope-burned wrists.

They just looked at one another for a long moment, then Norway gave him a glad-to see-you're-alive sort of nod. Sweden blinked up at him and said, "Sorry."

A line appeared Norway's eyebrows. That wasn't right at all. He shook his head, then said himself, "Sorry."

Apparently Sweden was having a similar moment, but before his disapproving look could turn into anything, Finland interrupted. "While I see you're having a productive conversation," he said while quite obviously laughing at them on the inside, "am I the only one who wants to get out of here as fast as possible?"

"I do," Iceland piped up, packing up the bandages and iodine. His shoulders were drawn up as if was expecting to be attacked from behind at any moment. Norway sympathized, even though he knew logically they were as safe as was ever possible; it was very tempting to put the entire ordeal behind them and forget it ever happened.

Finland looked at his watch. "I think we can catch the next ferry."

"Actually, I was thinking of taking the other one, to Oskarshamn," Norway heard himself say. At the look he got, he said, "It's basically the same either way, so I may as well take those idiots part of the way."

Denmark, with whom he had studiously been avoiding eye contact, said, "Thanks," and he had to look. He was more covered in dirt than anything, though, letting the last bit of apprehension dissipate from Norway's chest. The colorful band-aids at odd angles on his face were actually almost funny.

"I'm flying out of Stockholm tomorrow, so I guess I'm with Svi," Iceland said, and no one bothered to ask Finland his plans since it was obvious which car he would go in. It was an nice, even split, perfect despite that feeling in Norway's chest that hadn't gone away.

"We'd better get going if we want to make it," Denmark said, hauling himself up and then offering a hand to Sweden that he used to pull him into a loose hug. "Glad you're safe."

Sweden grunted and returned the hug, which Denmark then turned on Finland and Iceland. Norway said his goodbyes as well, then left Denmark to corral Prussia. It was all almost dissonantly normal, but he supposed in its own way that was the best thing that could happen. Besides, he didn't have the ferry schedule memorized, but he was fairly certain Denmark was right about time being tight. He climbed into the passenger seat and pulled out a map.

Prussia scrambled into the backseat, cackling at something or another, and several moments later Denmark slid into the driver's seat and leaned over the center console. "You're not driving?"

Norway shook his head, folding up the map and gesturing to the bag of amulets he had collected from everyone. "I want to fix these. I'd rather you all keep yourselves out of trouble so we don't have to do this again."

The sigh Denmark let out as he fastened his seat belt sounded more indulgent than annoyed, but Norway wasn't quite sure he could trust himself to be completely free from his wishful thinking. Still, there were no complaints as Denmark drove them to the dock and dealt with the business of getting them aboard the ferry.

Norway was forced to leave his work behind as they went up to the deck for the duration, unwilling to risk being seen doing magic by the ordinary people around them. They aimlessly sat down at a table near a window, Prussia looking outside with the kind of excitement Norway thought was only possible of five-year-olds. While he snapped a picture of the view, Norway casually asked Denmark, "Was it really necessary to roll in the dirt on your way back?"

Denmark grinned, but it wasn't as bright as normal. "I would have avoided it if I could." Norway snorted to mask his curiosity, and Denmark continued even without an invitation, "They collapsed the ridge on me. I guess they figured if I was protected from spells, why not send something else to do the job?"

Norway had examined every one of the amulets already, and the one that had been Denmark's had barely any protection left on it at all. He'd gotten very lucky they'd given up before it had disappeared completely. He was actually also lucky he'd come away from the landslide without any severe damage with the rocky nature of the soil on the island. "You should go wash your face," he said after a long pause, mostly for lack of anything better to say. Denmark nodded slowly, then got up to visit the restroom and do just that, leaving Norway alone with his thoughts and the sound of Prussia tapping away furiously on his phone.

When Denmark returned, slightly damp but much cleaner, the scene was exactly how he had left it. He slid back into the seat he'd left, the seat next to Prussia, and said, "Didja look up the trains?"

"Nässjö," Norway said shortly, a little annoyed at himself as he forced away the tension that had seized his shoulders when Denmark started to speak. It was ridiculous the way he was acting, reacting; if Denmark was angry, he would have shown it by now. And if he wasn't angry, then why was Norway on pins and needles? He needed to calm down.

Denmark craned his neck trying to get a peek at whatever Prussia was doing, and Norway let their conversation wash over him as he crossed his arms and contemplated the sea.

***

"Almost there," Denmark said at the first sign for Nässjö. Norway's head snapped up and he caught a glimpse of it, and the restless feeling came back, itching inside his chest. Then he saw another sign.

"Turn here," he ordered."

"What?"

" _Turn_."

Denmark looked at him like he was crazy, but still did as he was told. "Norge," he tried after a few moments of silence.

"Just, go south."

"Aw," Prussia said, leaning forward and poking his head in between the seats. "I was looking forward to us being train buddies."

"Well, you can be car buddies, what's the difference?" Norway snapped.

Prussia gave him a saccharine sweet smile that just looked out of place on his face, probably the intended effect. "You're just always looking on the bright side, huh."

"You can take the train alone if you'd prefer," Norway offered through gritted teeth.

"Naw, I'm good." He went back to lounging across the seat. "I'm used to hostility I haven't done anything to deserve."

"You're _annoying_ ," Norway said, knowing he was taking the bait and not quite caring. He already had a reputation, he might as well use it.

"You say _he's_ annoying, too," Prussia pointed out, and Norway liked neither the direction of the conversation nor the look on Prussia's face as he said it. The last thing he needed was to say something wrong about Denmark in front of him.

"That's different."

"Oh? How so?" Prussia said, sitting up once more.

"I _like him_ ," Norway said, and for some reason Prussia's smile returned, barely able to contain its smugness. He laid back down and serenely began to fiddle with his phone again, as if their conversation had never happened.

Norway glanced at Denmark, but it was like he hadn't heard. Or at least, that's what Norway thought for the next twenty minutes, working on the repairs to the pendants until he felt the car stopping. After putting the car in park, Denmark opened the door and got out, stretching his back on one side, then the other. Prussia said something about snacks, leaving Norway and his nerves alone with Denmark. "Are you—?" he said finally, quietly from safely on his side of the car.

At first it seemed as though maybe Denmark hadn't heard, but then he said, "You should have told me, you know."

"I couldn't," Norway said, petulance creeping into his tone.

"You could have, and you should have. Fin and Prussia would have been fine without me, but we all would have been sunk without those talismans you made."

"I. Couldn't." Norway repeated, more heat than anything in his tone this time. Then, because he was feeling vulnerable and strange, he added, "Like you would have."

"I might have," Denmark said, voice infuriatingly even, "if I thought I had to to save Sve."

"Well, I _didn't_ have to."

"But you should have."

"It wasn't even any trouble," Norway lied. "I could handle it just fine." He was fairly certain Denmark couldn't see the way his hands were shaking thanks to the car. "I would never have told you at all if I could have gotten it off of myself."

Denmark's mouth flattened and he looked away, out of disappointment or trying to control his anger, Norway couldn't tell. He tried to convince himself that didn't hurt worse than some of the visions he'd been forced to endure, but he felt a little bubble of panic rising in his throat and had to swallow it down with resolve. He hadn't come this far, gone through all that, just to meet a setback here. "Be with me," he blurted.

Looking at Norway like he must have misheard, Denmark said with a touch of bitterness in his tone, "I thought you could handle things on your own."

"Of course I can," Norway snapped back, "I _want_ you to be with me."

Some modicum of understanding seemed to come to Denmark, but his expression displayed a less hostile confusion. "You mean, you want... what, exactly?"

"I—" Norway suddenly felt extremely stupid, and embarrassed at his own stupidity. Hands balling into fists, he stared down at the pavement in shame and frustration. He'd never needed words before with Denmark, and now for the second time in as many days he was at a loss.

"You're going to have to explain," Denmark said quietly, and Norway was startled by the proximity of his voice; he had come around to Norway's side. "I'm sorry, but you know how dense I am." There was even a smile at his own expense tacked onto the end, but it didn't make Norway feel any better.

"I can't," Norway admitted. "More than we are, less than we were." He gave a helpless little shrug and felt the something inside him that had been wearing at him slide slowly back into place. Perhaps it was odd to be calm while he waited for an answer, but he had asked; he had asked and that was all he could do.

"I don't think I could have done it," Denmark said after a moment as if starting a completely new conversation. Norway was confused but let him go on. "I only had to watch a few times, and that was already too much. If it had been for three days nonstop... I would be messed up too, way more than you are."

"I'm not—" Denmark was turning to walk back around the front of the car, and Norway grabbed his arm and pulled him back to keep him there. "I'm not just saying this because I'm upset."

Denmark searched his face for a long moment, and Norway realized he was going to say "no." The something he couldn't place hidden behind Finland's warning, which had been rolling around in the back of his head, finally became clear. Abruptly, Norway let go of Denmark's arm as he realized the niggling doubt about whether he should do this had been right.

Just as he couldn't bear to look at the hard expression on Denmark's face anymore, the corners of his mouth softened into a sad little smile. "You've never liked making things easy."

Norway shook his head. "I'm sorry."

But then, Denmark wrapped his arms around him and said to the air over his shoulder, "Too bad I never could get my head on straight when it came to you."

"What?" Norway said dumbly.

"Whatever you want, it's yours," Denmark said, "Just promise me something in return?" Norway nodded for him to go on. "Let me down easy at the end." It wasn't a question or really even a request, but more like an order.

Norway brought his arms up and dug his fingers into Denmark's back, burying his face in his shoulder. He shook his head firmly. "It's not. Not." He changed tack and tried again, "I just want you _with me_." If that didn't work, Norway didn't have any words left to explain.

Denmark was quiet for a long moment and Norway wondered if he might not have to promise anyway, even though it was so mistaken for what he was asking. He'd do it, if he had to, but he'd prefer Denmark _understood_.

"I still don't get it." He let go and, reluctantly, Norway followed suit. "Guess you'll have to show me."

Not a 'no.' He'd take it. There was possibility in not-a-no. All the possibility he could imagine, and as he'd proved these last few days, he could imagine a lot. Norway flashed him a small smile, then settled back to lean against the car, arms crossed smugly looking out across the parking lot.

This time the sigh was definitely one of fond exasperation. "I suppose now you've invited yourself over to stay at my house too?"

"I'm driving you back, it's the least you could do."

" _I'm_ driving," Denmark said, but there was a smile behind the words. "But, I guess it's for the best, so we can talk through this whole curse business."

Norway started, but before he could complain, Denmark held up a hand. "You're the one who _just_ said you wanted more of me in your life."

"Shut up."

" _All_ the details."

"Shut _up_."

"I want to picture it as if I were _there_." Norway punched him hard in the arm, and he just started laughing. "Regretting it yet?"

Norway gave him the side eye, but after, linked his fingers loosely with Denmark's. In a minute Prussia would come back, they'd get back in the car, and they'd get back on the road. Norway would pester Denmark and Denmark would pester him back for a few days before he found his way up to Oslo. He'd call Iceland to hover just like he did every week, get drinks with Sweden and Finland. It would be his life again, the long interruption would end. This week would blur together, then away, befitting the long nightmare it was.

This moment, though, felt real. The first real thing. The only catch was, reality was far more terrifying and uncertain than anything his nightmare had dreamed up. It was the most scared he'd been in a long while.

He finally had both eyes open.


End file.
